


Foreign Thoughts, Familiar Concepts

by VenomQuill



Series: Dragon Age II [6]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Dragon Age II Quest - Tranquility, Familiars, Gen, It didn't take me long to dive into AUs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25246690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Alex and Carver Hawke need to scrape together fifty sovereigns and find suitable maps to the Deep Roads in order to get in on the expedition. Varric claims to have found a Gray Warden whom they find to be a rebel Warden mage, Anders. Anders has agreed to share maps that could set up their expedition for them, but it comes with a price--help make sure nothing goes wrong as he meets his Circle friend in the Chantry.What they find is worse than any nightmare of demons Alex Hawke had ever had.
Series: Dragon Age II [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794661





	Foreign Thoughts, Familiar Concepts

_“I’m not sure about attacking templars. I might rather take my chances with the darkspawn.”_

_“If we fight the templars, it is because they decide that anyone who befriends a mage deserves death without questioning. These are my terms. If you want my aid with your expedition, meet me in the chantry tonight. I have sent word to Karl to be there. Maker willing, we will all leave free men.”_

Nocturnal insects chirped and called in the city washed in silver moonlight. Four pairs of footsteps, two soft with leather and two hard with metal, and matching paw steps traveled through the stone streets and up the long stairs up to the convoluted chantry far above. The one in lead, a woman dressed in simplistic robes with a metal-and-wood staff slung over her shoulder, looked around at the still night. Her muscles tensed and heart beat faster the more she looked. Beside her, hopping up the stairs two at a time, was a feline-esc, blue-furred creature with a darker mane and tuft of fur on his head and jaws. The tip of his banded tail ended in a long poof of stark yellow fur. He looked up the mage woman with round icy blue eyes that perfectly mirrored hers. _“It’s a pretty nice night tonight, right? Though, all this lack of noise is beginning to_ bug _me.”_ Her familiar’s voice sounded inside her head.

Hawke held back a snort. _“You are bad, Socks,”_ she thought back. _“…You know, I hope it gets to be day soon. I really don’t want to face the_ knight. _”_

Socks let out an audible bark of laughter. _“Yeah! I’ll be happy to see the sun again. If I stay out here any longer, I’ll be moonstruck!”_

Behind her walked three others, one in a reinforced leather suit missing its sleeves, one in metal-laced guard’s armor, and another in a lax suit with a jacket. A dog bearing dragon horns, wings, and a scaley tail marched by the younger man’s side, triangular ears up and dark brown eyes staring ahead. The young man shifted and the great sword over his back moved. The only other woman stood behind them, tense and glaring at her surroundings as if daring the shadows to lunge at them. A bear whose back was slick with armadillo plates and elongated tail bristling with spikes like a porcupine trudged by her side, her heavy head swinging around and beady eyes narrowed. The only one of them who was in the least relaxed was the dwarf in a leather jacket, his eyes ahead and stride quick only to keep the pace with the longer-legged humans. The feathery fox hopped up the stairs on his other side, pausing only to sniff the night air.

The mage woman stopped at the top of the stairs. Standing in the shadow of one of the pillars of another mage, his outfit being considerably more complex with gray feathery pauldrons covering his shoulders and lacing the back of his neck. He glanced at the door and then turned his full attention on the woman. The tabby cat crouching beside him, his fur as light a blonde as the man’s with dull stripes and eyes just as deep a honey-brown as the mage’s, watched the door. His tail tip flicked impatiently. Hawke once heard him refer to the familiar as Pounce, though if that was his true name, she couldn’t be certain. After all, her own familiar’s birth-name wasn’t Socks.

The mage waiting for them, Anders, announced, “I saw Karl go inside a few minutes ago. No templars so far. Are you ready?”

The female mage, Hawke, nodded. “I didn’t see anyone suspicious out here. Let’s do this fast.”

“All right. I’ll handle the talking. You watch for templars.”

They carefully, quietly, made their way inside, though the bear’s claws and the guard’s metal lined boots made a noise the others did not. The inside of the cathedral drew out in a long hallway before exploding into a grand room laced with stairs reaching the upper floors flanking the room and the stage near the front. Statues and fresco paintings dominated by red and gold and turned to life by dying red candles filled the room with warmth and… something else… a negative emotion that competed heavily with the security it was supposed to provide.

 _“A little, uh, creepy. Don’t think they were trying to Make-r it feel like this!”_ Sock bared his teeth in an unstable grin for a fleeting moment.

Hawke followed Anders up the stairs in the right side of the building. She looked back at her brother, honorary sister, and new friend. Carver stayed tense, a grim look of distrust mutilating his features. His familiar bared his canine teeth in a silent snarl and held his wings up. Aveline, staying firmly in the back, clutched her shield with strength, but did not hold the skepticism or distrust the Hawkes did. Instead, her gaze was soft, and her eyebrows contracted. Her familiar held her heavy head low, but the quills on her tail and hindquarters flared.

In a room blocked by a few pillars, they found a lone man. His body, half-shrouded in the darkness of night, was only visible in the half-glow of the candles close to him. Hawke bristled, as did Socks. Sock’s tail shot straight up, and his long ears flattened to his fuzzy head. Hawke looked around, her tension turning to confusion. Didn’t Anders say Karl had fox familiar with a songbird’s wings and feathers? He described the creature with detail, comparing him loosely to Varric’s but with brighter coloring and a dark hood. So, where was… no. Oh no. No, this wasn’t happening. The fox was there somewhere, he had to be. _“Socks?”_

Socks stuck closer to her ankle. _“Is it just me or did it suddenly get cold in here?”_

Anders stopped just a few feet away. The tabby beside him flicked his tail, ears flat and paws kneading the carpet.

Karl stated, his voice flat, “Anders. I know you too well. I knew you would never give up.”

Anders said, “What’s wrong? Why are you talking like–”

His mage friend turned around to face Anders, his dark eyes glazed over as if asleep or hypnotized. Something like the Chantry’s starburst was branded onto his forehead. “I was too rebellious. Like you. The templars knew I had to be… made an example of.”

Anders shook his eyes, his breath coming in hardly a wheeze, “No.”

“How else will mages ever master themselves? You’ll understand, Anders.”

Behind them, soldiers in gleaming silver armor and red-and-gold skirts spilled out of the opposite ends of the hallway and crept up the stairs. The flaming sword insignias on their chest plates gleamed in the firelight. In the semidarkness, all gender, all humanity, ceased to be seen. Medium familiars, those close to lupines, canines, bigger felines, and hooved and horned creatures, stuck close to their imprinted. There weren’t too many feathers and quite a bit of fur was replaced by scales or plates or… hidden beneath armor. Karl went on, “As soon as the templars teach you to control yourself.”

Socks looked up at Hawke. _“Guess this means we get to meet our knights in shining armor after all.”_

They turned around, all eyes on the _monsters_ behind them.

Karl stated, “This is the apostate.”

A horrible _scream_ wrenched itself out of Anders’ throat. “No!” He fell to his knees, doubled over and shivering with his fingers curling into his hair. The tabby’s eyes flashed blue and he shook himself as if wet. Then, the cat was no longer there. Ser Pounce-a-Lot grew and shifted, his once soft fur smoothing and dull stripes sharpening and teeth widening. The tiger glared and roared, the very sound causing every entity within earshot to freeze. The instinctual, paralytic fear of a tiger’s presence stopped any thoughts or movement. Anders convulsed and his shaking stopped. The mage hopped to his feet, blue fire hissing and swirling out from under him, his eyes and the veins close to his skin glowing a hot blue. “You will never take another mage as you took him!” he roared in the deep, double voice of an entity that was _not_ the healer.

He whipped his staff and a bolt of energy burst from its tip, burning into the closest templar’s chest plate.

Then, there was chaos.

Socks immediately went invisible. _“Sorry!”_ Hawke spun her staff and summoned as much energy as she could into the strikes. Unfortunately, her studies focused on magic that warmed and healed rather than stung and wounded. So, she backed off to stand by Varric, allowing Aveline and Carver with their familiars to charge into the fray. Varric’s familiar squeak-barked and bared his teeth, but daren’t go forward.

The horrible crunching of bone and shrieking of metal echoed through the quiet chantry. Fire and lightning snapped and crackled. Waves of cold energy she recognized as magic nullifying swirled around the feet of the aggressors. Still, both she and Anders–rather, whatever the creature close to foaming at the mouth was next to her–were too far away to be affected.

Hawke kept herself busy mending wounds from afar. She concentrated hard on her friends and brother lest she look at the templars ready to chop her head off. She would start to panic and then she would be useless. She grimaced at the horrible scream nearby marking the tiger’s white-hot claws sinking into flesh and the bones of a familiar’s silver-armored neck crunching. The templar beneath him relaxed as the beast flopped to the ground, but only for a moment before death took him.

Finally, the last sword clanged to the ground. A body hit the ground _hard,_ blood streaming down their neck from the dog-dragon familiar’s teeth.

Karl sputtered, “I–Anders, what did you do?” Anders calmed and turned back. The blue glow was lost. The tiger, heaving and wavering on his paws with his head and tail bowed, stood beside him. His form shrunk into a house cat’s and he collapsed. “It’s like… you brought a piece of the Fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like.”

Hawke tipped her head. “I thought the Tranquil were cut off from the Fade forever.”

Socks slowly lost his invisibility, sticking close to Hawke and coiling his tail around her leg. His nervousness automatically added onto her own, though she tried her best to put it down. _“I can’t sense his familiar, Alex. They killed him. How could anyone do such a thing?”_

Karl said, his voice quivering a little at first, “When you’re Tranquil, you never think on your life before. But it’s like the Fade itself was inside Anders. Burning like a sun.”

Anders’ voice started a little slow, hesitant. “I have… some unique circumstances, yes. But, Karl, what happened? How did they get you?”

Karl took a deep breath. “The templars here are far more vigilant than in Ferelden. They found a letter I was writing you… You cannot imagine it, Anders. All the color, all the music in the world, gone. I would gladly give up my magic, but this? I’ll never be whole again. I’ll never talk to Mark, never hear _any_ familiars again.” A sudden panic came over him and he began to tremble and hyperventilate, “Please, kill me before I forget again! I don’t know how you brought it back, but it’s fading.”

Anders shook his head. “Karl, no–”

Hawke looked between them. “Maybe we can find a cure.”

Anders turned to her. Ser Pounce-a-Lot moved his exhausted gaze up to meet Socks’. Socks shied from his gaze and flattened his ears. “Can you cure a beheading? The dreams of Tranquil mages are severed–there is nothing left of them to fix.”

Karl chimed in, “I would rather die a mage than live as a templar puppet.”

A sudden resolve came over her. “I would rather die than be Tranquil. Help him.”

The possessed healer bowed his head. “I got here too late. I’m sorry, Karl. I’m so sorry.”

The tranquil mage looked around and sputtered, “Now! It’s fading…” Then, the man relaxed and straightened out of his hunched posture. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Anders approached Karl so that he was less than a foot away from the man. “Goodbye.” A knife Hawke didn’t see him pull out struck deep into the man’s chest. Karl gasped and collapsed, his body letting out a few involuntary twitches before falling still.

Resigned, Anders picked up Ser Pounce-a-Lot and walked away. “We should leave before more templars come.”

Socks looked up at her as they followed. _“People kill familiars to numb an execution. I… I thought tranquility was just a threat o-or exaggeration.”_

“It’s not,” Hawke said, the words escaping from her mouth rather than through the telepathic bond with her familiar. “It’s real and it’s cruel and it’s _legal._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> This quest was _so sad_ and pissed me off so hardcore. They wonder why I cheered Anders on in the end of the game.
> 
> So, I used this quest specifically because: a) possession, be) how people are made Tranquil. Like in the original game, they're branded. But in this world, all you need to do is simply kill their familiar. The brand severs the connection between the mage and the familiar. Anyone can be "tranquil" regardless of magic or race by killing a familiar. However, it's only legal in executions, where the familiar is slain so the person is unable to feel fear or emotion behind any pain or discomfort.
> 
> All people have "familiars" here. After birth, their soul physically manifests itself into an animal-esc creature. Most are just called familiars, who are different animals mixed together. In very uncommon cases, there are "shape-shifter" familiars who have two forms close to each other. Anders' familiar, dubbed "Ser Pounce-a-Lot," is a golden tabby who can shape-shift into a Bengal tiger. Then there are the extremely rare "chimera" familiars, colloquially known as "mutts," who don't resemble any type of animal very closely, like Socks.
> 
> Anyway, time to commit iconoclasm, encourage anarchy, and support progressivism!


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